Equality
by Jayniffy
Summary: S&S One-Shot - Sakura's innocent and carefree spirit had been one of the few things left in his life that he truly believed could never be tainted. And now, looking at her battered and terrified, Syaoran wanted to die.-PRE-ACID TOKYO- Review, please?


Well, well. It's been well over two years now since my last update, so I figured I'd add a one-shot that does not require a commitment, because I can't commit to anything (my untouched CCS story is a wonderful example of this. I'll probably end up deleting it).  
This takes place well before the Acid Tokyo Arc. The idea had been rolling in my head for a few years now and I was just too lazy to get it out.

I guess some warnings are in order:

1)Sakura/minor character abuse is below that might be disturbing/offensive to some. I know, it's mean, considering all Sakura has to go through already. But in my defense, I started this when everything in the manga was lighter and I felt it needed more angst (Ha. I know. The irony, eh?). That, and I'm just plain evil. Go me.  
2)Language: Bad, bad men, using bad, bad words. A teensy bit, I believe.  
3)Nudity and suggestive themes: Not in the way you'd automatically think, but it's still there.  
4)Angst. Need I say more?

If I dare continue, this note will be longer than the story, and that's bad. So I'm leaving you with the obvious: I own nothing. CLAMP even owns my soul, which they have probably used to clone me. Cause hey, whom haven't they cloned?Enjoy!

* * *

Syaoran knocked softly on the bathroom door. "Sakura-hime?" He called.

The only response he received was the echoing of the water in the shower. Sakura had been in the washroom for almost two hours and, while she was known for long showers, it was beginning to worry him. The hot water had to have long run out by then.

"Sakura-hime?" He knocked louder, but his voice still had a tender and concerned tone.

With no response he felt his heart plummet and his panic climb. "Sakura-hime," he tried again. The silent rush of water was his reply. "I just want to make sure you're okay. Fai-san and Kurogane-san just dropped off some clothes for you, as well as some bandages to wrap up those cuts of yours."

Finally, she responded so quietly Syaoran had to strain to hear her through the water, "It's unlocked. The door." Her voice was cracking, and recent events stung Syaoran's heart viciously all over again.

* * *

The last world the group of travelers had been in was less than kind, especially in regards towards Sakura. When they first arrived it only took mere seconds for Syaoran to notice that she was not by his side. Much like what had happened with Kurogane and Fai a few worlds back, Sakura had not arrived with the group. Even in the most peaceful of countries, this would leave Syaoran utterly terrified, and that world was far from peaceful.

Women in that world, and in many others Syaoran was beginning to realize, were considered property, sold off at auctions to the highest bidder for labor work or childbearing. This never sat well with Syaoran. He noted many times while browsing through his various history books that this treatment of women was a common theme in numerous cultures and it disturbed him greatly.

Although his time with his adoptive father had been short, there was one thing he had been taught that he would always remember: and that was respect towards women. For as long has he lived, Syaoran would never understand why any one person would want to crush the gentle and sweet spirit of any woman. And now he feared that this male domination had now crushed his sweet princess.

Syaoran had been frantically searching for Sakura for days when he managed to overhear a group of men crudely discussing the latest, "bitch sale," and describing the recent item on auction: a young, tiny brunette in foreign garments.

"Heard it put up a fight. They had to knock it around a bit. Finally shut it's trap last night."

"Mr. Graves ain't too bright. He of all people should know that bruises bring down the price. Heard it looks too frail. Not good for servant work or childbearing even. Even if it ain't been fucked yet, I doubt he'll get much for her."

"One thing's for sure: it's a screamer. I could hear it begging from blocks away in my house." He laughed, "Reminded me of when I brought my newest bitch home. They always scream right before they get popped."

Syaoran was shaking with rage, nails digging into his palms, knuckles white. Kurogane had to hold him back, while Fai went to enquire about the auction. It was to take place the next day, Fai reported later in their room at the Inn, inwardly flinching at the sight of a rail-thin, young blonde maid in leg shackles whom could not have been any older than sixteen. The auction house was on the west side of town and the women were kept in the basement, with a few guards on shift at night. Security was never an issue for none of the girls ever had anyone who cared enough for a rescue attempt, and any girls that tried to escape were usually shot on site.

While Kurogane considered the mission a simple one, the guards were only used to dealing with frightened, shackled women and not trained assassins, he noted, everyone agreed that they wanted to rescue Sakura with as little trouble as possible. Meaning it had to be done quickly and quietly. Night was the perfect cover for that.

Kurogane had been right: subduing the guards had been simple. However, as they made their way through the auction house and down into the basement, none had been prepared for the horrifying realization of just how cruel the men of this world truly were.

The cells, or more resembling crude cages, could barely fit a child, let alone young women. But there they were, unable to move in such cramped living quarters, hands chained above their heads, which hung limply against their arms or chests in exhaustion and shame. Many were nude and even the few who had clothes, the fabric was only held together by threads. Knots in the material showed a desperate attempt to keep even the slightest fragment of modesty and dignity left in them.

Sakura was one of those few. Syaoran could only suck in his breath as he tried to hold back a cry of horror at the sight of her. Much like the other young women, her hands were chained above her head, the rusty shackles cutting into her thin wrists. Her clothes were still on but they had been shredded and her pants were gone, the decorative cloth that hung down from around her waist being the only thing that ceded to her modesty. Her shoes were missing and her feet were swollen from the lashes across them. There was a fresh bruise around her right eye as well as on her waist, arms, and legs. Syaoran also noticed a card on the front of her cage:

**Item # 9564-23  
Ranking: 68/100  
****Starting Bid: 2,000.00**

He glanced at the other cages; he noted all the girls had different rankings and starting bids on their cards. To have your existence summed up by a number and ranking, Syaoran thought. To say he was revolted would be an understatement.

A small moan brought Syaoran back to Sakura's cage. Sakura glanced up at him slowly and his heart lurched and twisted so painfully, he thought someone had ripped it out of his chest. Her once beautiful, vibrant emerald eyes had now lost their childlike twinkle and were replaced with a dull, hopeless tone and Syaoran could only stare in despair. Her innocent and carefree spirit had been one of the few things left in his life that he truly believed could never be tainted. And now, looking at Sakura's battered body and terrified gaze, he wanted to die.

"Shh … Syao … kun?"

Her broken, small voice cut through him and he suddenly became painfully aware of himself. He ran to her cage, sucking in breaths he had not realized he had been holding, bringing with him the keys to the shackles he found on one of the unconscious guards. Forgetting his status he called to her, "Sakura!" Sakura started to whimper, tears following their well-rehearsed trail down her dirt-smeared cheeks. "Shh, it's okay. Please, I'm here. We're going to get you out of here, okay?" She could only whimper in response.

But as Syaoran started to unlock her shackles, she came completely undone, words sputtering out of her in relieved sobs and Syaoran had to do everything in his power to hold back his own, "I was all alone, I didn't know where to go! I tried, I tried, I tried to get away! They grabbed me. Hit me. I couldn't fight-Ahh!"

Syaoran had unlocked the shackles and Sakura cried out as some small cuts around her wrist reopened, and her arms and upper body dropped, limp, against her legs. Syaoran quickly unlocked the cage and pulled her shaking form to him and she sobbed fully into his chest. Wasting no time, Syaoran hooked an arm under her knees, the other under her back and lifted her up, whispering apologies as she whimpered in pain, fisting the front of his shirt.

As Syaoran carried her towards the basement stairs she cried out for him to stop, "The others! We can't just leave them here!"

Syaoran looked hopelessly to the other women. The few that weren't unconscious looked up at him, but there was no hope in their eyes. They knew. They knew there was no helping them. Still, Syaoran could not bring himself to break this to Sakura, so he looked to Kurogane, hoping he would.

But Kurogane was too fixated on one of the cages, a young girl with a pale face, and long tangled black tresses. Her violet eyes were unresponsive as was the rest of her motionless form. From the way the chains dug into her neck, Syaoran knew what had become of her.

"Kurogane-san?" Syaoran called hesitantly.

"I'm sorry, Princess," he said slowly, his eyes still directed towards the poor girl in the cage. He turned back to the distressed couple, "In their state, they'd just end up back here, or dead. It's pointless." He started towards the stairs, "Let's get out of here before we attract anymore attention."

After Mokona insisted Syaoran that there was no feather to retrieve in this world, Sakura said she did not care: even if there was a piece of her missing memory, she did not want to stay any longer. Syaoran did not need to be told twice.

At the first pull that indicated their departure, Sakura went suddenly silent, and at first, Syaoran just assumed it was from exhaustion and, possibly, relief to be leaving. But, after arriving in a, thankfully, peaceful country she steadied herself on her feet without Syaoran's assistance and quickly shut herself in the bathroom of their hotel room, the sound of running water echoing in his ears.

* * *

Syaoran now stood outside of that same bathroom door, his entire body taut in uncertainty. "Are you sure, Princess?"

"Yes."

With hesitation that resembled a dog unwilling to return a ball to its master, Syaoran pushed lightly on the door with his index finder, letting it fall open on its own. As he stepped forward passed the threshold he was rooted to the floor for the second time that day in shock of what he saw.

She was sitting in the corner of the opened shower stall, bruised and battered legs drawn up to her chest, her scratched up arms holding them in their place. She was shivering under the cold, cascading water as wisps of drenched hair clung to her brow and pale cheeks. In spite of himself, Syaoran, while his heart broke for her a thousand times over, could not deny the inner pull and desire he felt in the presence of her nude state. He pushed that demon in him aside, ashamed, as he gazed at her lost face.

He wanted to say something, anything. But what was there to say? Sorry? Sorry for what? For failing her? For the cuts, the bruises, the humiliation and shame? There were too many wrongs that one simple apology could never suffice. So he did the only thing he could do: he sat down, leaning against the sliding glass door of the shower, turned away from her as a sign of respect, but leaning over in a way to show he was there for her in any way she needed.

This seemed like the right thing to do because, after a few minutes, Sakura finally spoke, "Did you see my card?"

Syaoran was not sure if he heard right, "Pardon?"

"The card on the cage," she spoke louder, her voice rough. "Did you see it?"

Syaoran nodded reluctantly, "I saw."

She let out a cry of frustration that echoed in the stall and Syaoran's heart. "I don't know which is worse. The fact that I was reduced to a number, or that I've been driving myself crazy as to why I was only worth a sixty-eight."

Syaoran would not say it out loud to her but at the time he had seen the card he had wondered that himself.

Sakura shifted and Syaoran soon felt the weight of her back against the other side of the shower door.

"They kept charts and checklists to rank you." She lightly banged her head against the shower door, causing Syaoran to jump in alarm, "the . . . man in charge of me spat out my deductions like they were each a deadly sin." She began her list with another bang against the door, "I'm too thin." Bang. "My hair is plain." Another. "My skin is too pale." Again. "My breasts are too small." Harder. "Too straight a nose." Bang. "Scars." Bang. "Freckles." Bang. "Every thing on the list . . . he pointed out a flaw."

"Every –bang- part –bang- of –bang- me –bang- is –bang- flawed!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

With every crack against the shower door it took everything in Syaoran's power to keep from burying his head in his hands to cry. How could they? How could they turn everything he loved about her inside out and bring about this self-conscious, broken girl behind him? He suddenly wanted to go back. Go back and corner the men responsible for this. Didn't you know? He'd yell. She never did her hair because she was always running about and playing thus making ribbons and clips pointless. It was that childlike playfulness and wild tousled hair that he fell in love with all those years ago. Her pale skin was a result of devotion to her studies, and preparations for her future duties as an heiress, and the freckles were simply sun-kisses from the times she managed to step outside of the castle, more often than not, to visit him. Those scars they viewed as flaws were a result from her many adventures she had with him back home, climbing trees and jumping off rocks, as she tried to show him the beauty of the world while he was still hiding within himself. Each of those scars contained an important memory of the happy childhood he only had because that energetic, curious, beautiful princess with a pure soul cared enough to put a smile on the face of an orphaned boy.

Sakura's voice cut into his thoughts, a bitter, cold tone laced through, "He said the only thing that really brought up my ranking was . . . was that I was untouched." She let out a harsh laugh, "after all that, I feel anything but." Syaoran could feel the shiver run through her, and it was not a result of the cold water.

Before he realized it, Syaoran thought aloud, "But how would they know . . ." He trailed off as realization dawned on him. "God, Sakura," he breathed, anger rising within him once again. Any civil retribution he had in mind for those men was far-gone; he wanted their blood.

"Lucky you got there before the auction," she sighed and Syaoran was relieved she ignored his ignorance. "Some of the others were telling me what happens once you're sold off. I don't think I could have survived it." The floor squeaked as she shifted positions. "I wish we could have done something for them."

"So do I," was all Syaoran could say in response. Which was the truth, he wanted to help them, but his most important concern was Sakura.

"I'm sorry for unloading this on you," she said in a guilt-etched tone. You don't need me burdening you with–"

"No!" She jumped at his outburst. Before he could stop himself, he turned to her, reached his arm around the shower door and rested a hand on her arm. His gaze was still averted. "Don't ever apologize for this, Sakura! Ever!" He sighed in frustration, desperate to calm himself. The last thing she needed was to be yelled at. "I want to be here for you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She sniffled, but said nothing. Syaoran felt her shiver under his hand and he removed it, a blush forming on his face. "Should I turn the shower off now?" She nodded and Syaoran sat up to turn the lever up, cutting off the only sound that filled the silence between the two.

Realizing her state of dress, or lack-thereof, he felt his old ways returning to him; he flushed from the neck up and his nervous stutter returned. "I-I'll get you a tow-towel."

"Th-thanks," she mumbled as he handed her the soft white towel with averted eyes.

With her okay, he looked back up. She was still in the shower stall, but the towel was wrapped around her body, tucked in at the top to keep from falling. Syaoran found himself going back into his protective mode as he glanced at the cuts on her arms and legs. "Those should probably get disinfected and dressed properly," he said, nodding towards the bandages he left outside in the other room. She only nodded and stepped out of the stall on shaky legs, so Syaoran extended his arm for her to lean on which she gratefully obliged. Leading her out of the washroom, he pulled out a chair for her and helped her sit down. He tended the cuts around her feet and ankles first, whispering apologies whenever she flinched or hissed in pain.

"You should stop apologizing, too," she said with a miniscule trace of amusement in her voice as he finished dressed her right foot, moving on to her hands. "It's not like this was your fault."

"I . . . I could have gotten to you sooner."

"I know you did the best you could and I couldn't be more grateful." She leaned back into the chair with a long release of breath, "If I wasn't so weak, I probably would have been able to escape. I couldn't even fight them off."

Syaoran paused his treatment on her hands. "You're anything but weak, Sakura-hime. That's not why they did this to you." She looked down at his kneeling form, confusion evident in her features. "It's fear."

"Fear?" She echoed disbelievingly.

Syaoran stood up, grabbed another chair and set it down in front of her. Sitting on the edge, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together. "Yeah, fear. My father used to say that women were the finer gender. But there are some men out there that fear being inferior." Sakura raised an eyebrow at that. "It's a pride thing," he elaborated. "Many cultures make women second-class citizens to assure their position of power." He resumed his previous task of bandaging her wrists gently, "The men of that world felt it . . . necessary to cut a woman off of everything, to make them feel helpless, to ensure their superiority. It's cowardly."

Syaoran finally noticed the way Sakura was studying his face and he realized he was frowning deeply. "This isn't the first time you've dealt with this, is it?"

"No, it's not," he replied simply. "My father and I traveled to many different countries and some were horrible in ways of equality. I was only a child then, so it was hard for me to understand why things were like that and I guess, in a way, I never will." Finished tending to her wrists, he moved on to a final cut on her shoulder. "You tried to fight back, did you not?"

"Of course I did but –"

"But nothing. You fought. You didn't just roll over and take it." He placed a small bandage on her shoulder, smoothing the ends down longer than necessary, "That is what makes you strong. And I hope you don't mind me saying this but no matter what they said to you . . . " Syaoran trailed off and lowered his hand and head, the boldness of his next statement was too much under her gaze. "You are not just a number to me, Sakura-hime. You are beautiful in every way."

The silence following his confession was too much for him; he knew he had to look up at her. To his surprise, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. It took seconds for the initial shock to break through, but after he made no move to deepen the kiss or pull her to him, for he knew what that kiss was for: to feel in control. It was a moment of her choosing and to feel beautiful. It may have been the lightest of touches, the briefest of moments, but he knew he could live off of that moment forever.

She pulled back a fraction and smiled softly, "Thank-you, Syaoran."

For what specifically, Syaoran was not sure, so he only smiled and nodded, tucking damp strands of hair behind her ear.

"And it's Sakura, by the way."

"Huh?"

She let out a small laugh, which was music to his ears, "Just because I'm supposedly the 'finer gender' doesn't mean you need to call me Hime."

"Yeah, but –"

"But nothing," she mimicked his statement, taking his hand in hers. "You've saved my life too many times to count, and you are my closest friend. That is what makes you my equal."

Relief flooded through him like a broken dam as he noted the return of the sparkle in those jade eyes. It was only the smallest trace, but for Syaoran, it was enough for now.

He could only watch her smile widen as he said her name and feel his heart swell with hope as his love buried herself in his arms, knowing that she would push through this with all the strength she had yet to realize she possessed.

* * *

Words: 3,602

Okay, so I hate the ending. I can't write endings if my life depended on it, which is  
usually why I never finish any story I write. If anyone has any pointers on how to fix this, please, by all means, TELL ME! Cause I'm stumped.  
But besides the ending, I rather like how this has turned out. I'd like to think my writing has improved over the years, but I still struggle with certain aspects of it.

I'm proud that I actually included Fai and Kurogane in the mix, even if for the briefest of moments. I've got nothing against them, but I just feel I can't reflect their characters accurately (especially Fai. Geez he's hard.)

If anyone can figure out who my two minor abused/killed off characters were gets a cookie. I thought they were obvious, but I left their names out because it seemed to have a better effect.

Anyways, this is getting too long. I shall leave you to press that little button in the corner and leave your thoughts/critiques/flames or whatever.  
I would rather get CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, rather than "This sucks, go die." As I have gotten in the past. Because if I don't receive important critique, how am I going to write my suicide note correctly? :P

Reviews equal love!


End file.
